Issylte was returning to the cottage, a basket of wild plums on her arm—savoring the sweet taste of thetarte aux mirabellesthatTatiewould make for dessert—when she noticed a trail of pink flowers leading away from her normal route home. Intrigued, knowing that theLittle Folkhad left them for her, she followed theéglantinesto the same area of hazelwood branches covered with vines where she had first glimpsed the hidden cottage four years ago.
She knew immediately that something was wrong. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her legs were wobbly and weak.
The hens were squawking, their wings flapping wildly. Florette was bleating madly, running around in circles at the side of the cottage. Issylte’s stomach dropped, along with the basket ofmirabelleplums from her arm.
She couldn’t see any horses, yet the grassy area in front of the cottage was churned up by the imprint of many hooves.Huge clumps of dark mud were scattered everywhere near the entrance door.Dear Goddess,where is Tatie? A shiver of dread crept up her spine.I must help her!
Just as she was about to race to the cottage, a strong hand clamped over her mouth from behind. A heavily muscled arm pulled her back against a chest as hard as the trunk of oak. Panicked, Issylte struggled to break free, but his grip was like iron. A stern, deep voice spoke quietly into her left ear. “Do not cry out. I will not harm you. We are the escort from Avalon.”
Issylte nodded in bewilderment. Her weakened legs could barely support her weight. Her mouth was bone dry.I have to help Tatie!
“The queen’s men are in the cottage right now. Waiting for you to return. They have slain Maiwenn, her grandson, and his foolish wife who betrayed you.”
Issylte’s legs gave out. The strong arm supported her; the hand clamped over her mouth muffled her guttural moan.
He spoke sternly into her good ear. “You must be silent. The queen’s guards will hear you.”
Issylte nodded grimly. He relaxed the grip over her mouth ever so slightly. She was sick to her stomach. Could she vomit through his hand?
“Maiwenn summoned theLittle Folkto leave the trail of flowers. To draw you here, so that I could intercept you before you reached the cottage. It was her last act—to save you.”
Issylte collapsed in his arms, grief blinding her vision.Tatie! No….
The escort lowered his voice in sorrow. “We saw the three bodies behind the cottage. There is nothing you can do. We must leaveimmediately.The queen knows that you live. Her knights are hunting for you as we speak.” Issylte’s heart thumped in her throat.
He withdrew his arms from the hold which had pinned her to his chest. Issylte turned numbly to face the rider from Avalon who towered over her. She raised her face up to him with a blank stare.
A dark felt hat covered most of his face. Like a huntsman himself. Frantically, Issylte raked her eyes over the wooded area behind him. Were the queen’s guards in the forest? Where could she run?
“If we are questioned, you are my wife Petra and I am your husband Odrec. We are booking passage to Cornwall from the port of Sligeach.”
Before she could respond—or even blink—he lifted her effortlessly onto a horse and leapt up behind her. He motioned to six other riders hidden among the nearby trees. The escort reined his horse and dashed off into the forest, away from the beloved cottage.
Issylte was shivering in the saddle. The rider held her tight, his arms wrapped around her to grip the reins. They thundered through the thick forest towards the setting sun in the west.
Tatie is dead? Bran, too? And Dee betrayed us? Too stunned to even cry, her body trembling in shock, Issylte sat numbly before the horseman as they galloped towards the coast.
Suddenly, Odrec raised a fist in warning. The riders abruptly halted their horses and hid in a thicket as a dozen armed knights went barreling past. The queen’s huntsmen. Just like Lords Cian and Bolduc, who’d been ordered to kill her. She remembered the terrifying ordeal in the forest. Cutting out the heart of a stag. And now, a dozen more were hunting her. Like prey. A mouse hunted by swarms of hawks. She shivered uncontrollably as Odrec held her tight.
After a few moments, her escorts continued through the dense forest, towards the village of Sligeach and the sea. Yet, instead of riding directly into the village, Odrec and his menhalted near the lake where Issylte had always fished with Maiwenn. At the sight of the beloved Lough Gill where she andTatiehad caught so many fish, Issylte sobbed into her hands and moaned from the pit of her stomach.
He spoke gently into her ear. “Princess, we stop here for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
Odrec dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to one of his men with a nod that said, “guard the princess.”He whistled—a bird call—and after a moment, received a similar signal in response. Issylte wiped her eyes with a fold of her dress and glanced up to see a man and a woman emerge from the forest on horseback. They approached the escorts and dismounted. Odrec walked over to them, and the three conferred in hushed voices. He returned to Issylte. “My lady, come with me.”
He gently pulled her from the horse, his strong hands under her arms, and placed her on the ground. Odrec gestured to one of his men, who dismounted his own horse, and came to Issylte’s side. To stand guard.As if I could run away!she thought bitterly.
Odrec returned to the couple, and as Issylte watched, the woman removed her cloak, revealing pale blond hair, similar to her own. Issylte examined Odrec, able to see him more clearly now in the setting sun.
He is enormous!Issylte noticed that her escort stood a whole head taller than the lord who was traveling with the blond lady. Odrec’s entire body was as huge as an oak—a massive chest, expansive shoulders, and thick, muscular legs. His jawline was square, his neck corded with muscle, his light skin burnished gold from the summer sun.
Under his hat, Odrec’s hair was a pale, silvery blond, tied back at the nape of his neck with a leather cord. His features were sharp and angular, like those of a warrior. A bow and a quiver of arrows were on his back, like the other riders in herescort; all were armed with intricately carved swords sheathed in elaborate scabbards as well. Issylte glanced at the six men who accompanied Odrec. All were of the same enormous height and bulk as their leader, but he was the only blond among them.
Her escort returned, carrying the woman’s cape over his arm. “Please give me your cloak, Princess. Don this one instead.”
As she complied, Odrec gestured to the woman and her companion. “This couple will book passage on a ship to Cornwall, departing with the tide. When the queen’s knights discover that a young blond woman wearing your cloak set sail to Britain, her guards will pursue a false path, enabling us to take a different route to Avalon.”
Issylte fastened the borrowed cloak. “If we are interrogated, you must say that my name is Odrec, and that you are my wife, Petra, as I instructed. But I want you to know that my true name is Ronan.”
